


Consummation

by theprettynerdie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingerfucking, Romance, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprettynerdie/pseuds/theprettynerdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Siobhan Trevelyan and Commander Cullen consummate their marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consummation

**Author's Note:**

> I've been so incredibly busy that this fic has been in-progress for over two months. I'm happy to say it's FINALLY finished, even if it is 99% pure sappy smut.

The ceremony may have been private, but Siobhan sees no reason to keep her marriage a secret. With two years of peace and two nations pondering a way to dismantle the organization that saved Thedas, was it not time for her to soften the image of the warring, conquering Inquisitor? She highly doubts the relative peace that has followed Corypheus’s defeat will remain if Orlais and Ferelden immediately enter a power struggle for control of the Inquisition’s holdings should she disband it at the pace the Exalted Council is sure to demand tomorrow. 

Once vows and rings are exchanged and the Reverend Mother departs, Siobhan takes her new husband by the hand and leads him through the gardens. His mabari trots behind them as they stroll, clinging to each other in companionable silence and avoiding the astonished faces of passersby. Surely there can be no doubt of what they’ve just done; Siobhan is still in her gown, the one she’d spent a tidy sum on just hours before so she could be properly attired when she became _Mrs._ Rutherford.

Her sudden giggling breaks the silence between them. Catching sight of Cullen’s bemused expression, she explains, “I was just thinking about how I’m Mrs. Rutherford now.”

The smile spreading across his face is brighter than any she’s ever seen on him before. “Yes,” he says, turning to her as they come to a halt, “you are." 

He kisses her cheek. “Lady Inquisitor Siobhan Trevelyan-Rutherford. My _wife._ ”

She presses her lips to his at once, relishing the shiver that runs between them at the sound of that word. She feels wonderfully raw, happy beyond reason, as he kisses her back in the middle of the public garden of the Winter Palace with all the passion he can muster.

“Lord Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford-Trevelyan. My _husband_.”

“Dear Maker Siobhan,” he groans, pulls her flush against him. A passing Orlesian noble stops dead in her tracks to stare at the two of them as Cullen’s hands settle on her hips just short of her backside. Siobhan ignores the woman.

“We’re married now,” she whispers, forehead pressed to his, eyes burning. “Married couples dwell together, do they not, husband?”

She can see Cullen’s eyes darken before he swallows and answers. “They do.”

“Perhaps, then, we should see to a change in our living arrangements here at the palace.”

 

* * *

 

Ever-practical Cullen has not brought much with him from Skyhold, making it simple enough for two servants to complete the task of carrying his belongings across the Inquisition’s guest apartments to Siobhan’s rooms. 

Nevertheless, Cullen is impatient. The moment the final piles of reports and stacks of clothing and armor are in the room, he ushers the servants out of the room unceremoniously before they can unpack any of it for him. Siobhan shrieks when, next moment, he hauls her into his arms and presses her flat against the back of the door. His mouth is hot on hers in an instant, and she yields to him gladly. A hand moves to clutch at her ass, pulling her pelvis against his as he plunders her mouth thoroughly. Siobhan throws her arms around Cullen’s neck, and he lifts her until she’s effectively pinned between himself and the wood. 

She ruts against him, loving how the gyration of her hips makes him groan openly and clutch her that much tighter. Hands ruck up the skirt of her gown so he can cup the heat of her in his palm, tease her lightly through the fabric of her smalls with a single finger. 

Encouraged by the new, shuddering inflection her breathing takes on in response, he moves his mouth to suck lightly at her neck as he applies steady pressure with his finger against her clit. She wants to tear his finery away and get her own lips on him, but the moment she shifts in his arms, Cullen holds her fast, keeps her in place as he winds her up with slow, teasing strokes. His mouth travels so that warm, comforting breath skims her cheek and then her ear as his teeth graze the shell of it. His finger dips beneath her smalls to brush against her directly.

She gives a long, drawn out moan when the finger draws lower, along the lips, all the way to the perineum, and back again. “Oh, oh,” she murmurs. “Maker, _please_ , Cullen.”

“Hm?” He chuckles against her ear. Traces her outer lips with a single digit and latches his mouth to the juncture between neck and shoulder and sucks. 

“Please, put them _inside_ me!” Her thighs tremble. “ _Please_ , Cullen.”

He enters her slowly, just with that one finger, until it’s buried as deep within her as it can go. Siobhan throws her head back against the wood of the door so she’s staring at the ceiling as Cullen’s hand begins moving.

When she cries out, his mouth is there to seize the sound of it. He presses his groin against her, holds her in place while he strokes her, makes her all the wetter for him so he can fit a second finger in alongside the first. The twin sensation of his fingers inside her and his cock solidly pressed against her thigh already has her teetering on the precipice of release, and they’ve barely started. 

He draws back to press his forehead to hers. Siobhan opens her eyes, watches Cullen bite his lower lip as he crooks his finger, probing, until she lets out a gasp of pleasure. He’s relentless after that, rapidly pressing then releasing his fingers against the deep spot inside her.

His name tumbles from her lips on a shuddering sigh as her body seizes up and she comes, whispering the word over and over with every wave of her climax. She promptly collapses against Cullen’s chest, catching her breath while he mouths at her neck again. 

He doesn’t place her down once she’s settled. Instead he lifts her fully into his arms and carries her to the bed. He lays her down on her back, fitting himself between her legs at the foot of the mattress but making no effort to join her there just yet. He seems to be taking in the sight before him, Siobhan thinks, from the way he’s smiling softly at her, as though in wonderment. The thought is all but confirmed when Cullen speaks next. 

“Dear Maker, you’re beautiful,” he says, “My darling _wife_.”

“Please, Cullen,” Siobhan urges, shimmying out of her smalls and leaning forward to loosen the bodice of her gown.

“No,” he says sharply, stilling her hands. “Keep it on.”

She lays back, taking one of his wrists in her hand and tugging. But he does not crawl on to the bed beside her as she wishes. Instead, he yanks her skirt up until it’s bunched up around her waist, leaving her lower body bare to him.

“Open for me,” he says, urging her legs apart as he sinks to his knees. His eyes don’t leave her face when he leans in to taste her, nor when both his hands rub down her thighs as his mouth starts teasing the outer lips with little flicks of his tongue. Instead, he watches her as she sighs and squirms, rewards her eagerness with a hum that vibrates against her. 

Siobhan smooths back the curls of hair plastered against his forehead and watches him back, unwilling to let go of the image of her lover — no, her _husband —_ on his knees at the foot of their bed with his mouth on her. She shivers, and he takes her hand. 

His free hand skims over the back of her leg, her belly, back to her entrance. Two fingers breach her, but only just; there, they circle the inside of her opening lightly while his tongue drifts up to the part of her most in need of his attention.  He alternates between licking and sucking her clit, moaning along with her.

“Cullen, Cullen,” she mewls, her grip on his hand tight. “My love, my love." 

His tongue glides down to her entrance and slips in beside his two fingers. Her hips rise up off the bed, her body trembles; she’s close. 

Cullen fucks her with his fingers and tongue, pushing her to the brink. His thumb moves upward to stroke at her clit. She gives a great heaving sob and comes for him, watches him through a haze as he works her through the pleasure with his fingers still buried deep. 

Her hips fall back onto the mattress and she finally tears her gaze away from him. She lays there with an arm over her face as she catches her breath, and Cullen begins the process of shedding his clothes.

Siobhan lays, satiated and breathless, grinning lazily up at her husband as he pulls off his coat, then the shirt underneath it. He’s never been more beautiful than he is in this moment, she decides, her eyes drawn to the muscles in his arms and chest. She knows the brute strength of them, wants his brawn around her desperately and immediately.

“I’ve dreamed so often of this day,” he says, now working on the laces of his boots. “But I never dared to believe I’d live to see it, not for a long time. Even when you held me and said I was the best thing that ever happened to you, and that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. Then after Corypheus… After the danger passed and you could reevaluate what you wanted, you still chose me.”

“Of course I did,” Siobhan replies as he steps out of his boots and removes his socks. “I loved you. I fought for you every day, and I survived so I could come home to you.” 

“By the Maker, Siobhan, I love you too. More than you know.” He lays down beside her, still in his trousers. He kisses her slowly, reverently, with a sweet passion that is eagerly returned. 

Siobhan rolls onto her side to face his properly; despite the fact that she’s shared her bed with the same man virtually every night for the past several years, the look on his face steals her breath away. His expression, so raw and intense with devotion, makes her cheeks flush and her eyes wet. She turns away, but Cullen catches her chin between his fingers in an instant. He isn’t concerned; he understands.

“I _love_ you,” he whispers, kissing her cheek. A single tear escapes and drops onto his nose. He repeats the words over and over again, kisses her other cheek, her chin, the corners of her mouth, letting her sob and clutch at his shoulders as he unlaces the back of her dress. When the bodice slackens, he pries it away so her breasts spill out for him.

“ _Yes.”_ Siobhan’s grip tightens on his shoulders in anticipation. The tip of a finger grazes over her right nipple, once, twice, before making little circular motions there. He repeats the action with the other one and begins sweeping kisses in a line down from the hollow of her throat to the center of her breasts and all the way down to her navel, then back up again.

He presses the flat of his tongue to her nipple, licking and sucking the tip and around the areola in turn. Her other nipple receives the same treatment, and Cullen groans along with every stuttering moan he gets out of her. Siobhan presses the heel of her own hand against the outline of his cock, rubbing until she feels him grow firm in her grasp. 

“Off,” she says, working the laces free. “Off.” 

She doesn’t wait for Cullen to kick his trousers and smalls off. She pushes them both down, not even past his knees, and takes his cock in her hands.

“Please, Cullen.” Her face is shining with the tears she can no longer hold back. “Maker, please. Make love to me.”

They help each other out of their remaining bits of clothing, letting his trousers and her dress pool at the foot of the bed. Cullen presses her down on her back, and she spreads her legs so he can press himself between them. Her hands return to stroke his cock gently as she guides him to the seam of her cunt. 

He slides into her slowly, watching as his wife’s eyelids flutter shut and her lips part on a silent scream. Her voice returns moments later when she actually _does_ scream, prompting Cullen to seize her mouth in a demanding kiss, lest anyone should hear them. Siobhan is restless, shifting beneath him, trying to take his cock more deeply inside her. Cullen’s hands go to her hips to hold her steady, and he determinedly maintains his pace until he’s sheathed completely. 

She whimpers breathlessly, still squirming in his grip. Her hands run up and down his chest feverishly, desperate for more contact, always more. He gives a gentle roll of the hips so the base of his cock can rub against her clit, startling a reedy moan out of her.

“You’re incredible,” he says, pressing the words to her ear as he begins to move within her. She hooks her legs around his hips and meets each of his thrusts, clenching his forearms for dear life. It’s as if she can’t get close enough to him, despite the fact that they’re lying together, skin to skin.

“More,” she urges. “More.”

Cullen murmurs in agreement, latching his teeth to her earlobe and nibbling gently as he picks up the pace. He cherishes the way her entire body jerks at the initial, unexpected contact, just as much as he cherishes the look of her heavy-lidded gaze, unfocused through the haze of her arousal. His stubble grazes her cheek as his mouth works at her ear, first with teeth, then with light strokes of his tongue.  

There are still tears trailing down her cheeks and trickling into Cullen’s hair. She’s always been ruled by her emotions, but rarely has she grown so overwhelmed she’s been rendered utterly insensible. And never before has she lost herself so completely in physical sensation. She can barely keep up with it all, especially when Cullen releases her ear so he can press sweet, whisper-quiet words into it.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he says, a note of wonder in his voice. “You have no idea. _Maker_ , I’m so in love with you. My wife, _my wife._ ”

Siobhan hasn’t the strength to form words between the breathless whines he’s wringing from her with every stroke, every thrust of his hips. An orgasm hits her, sudden and earth-shattering, and she _wails_ , overcome with mind-numbing pleasure. Cullen fucks her through the waves, then through the aftershocks, and she clings to him tightly, her back arching and her legs splayed wide.

“Maker, you feel so good,” she sighs when her senses return to her. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, _don’t stop.”_

He doesn’t. Instead, he grasps both her ankles and throws her legs over his shoulders, bending her nearly in half. The new angle allows for deeper penetration, making Siobhan gasp and tremble anew. She throws her arms around his neck, keeping him close as he rides her, his pace deliberate, seeking to stroke against the place within that draws piercing sobs of delight from her. 

“I want you to come for me again,” Cullen murmurs. A hand situates itself between their sweat-slick bodies to press the pad of his thumb to her clit. “Want to feel you seize up around me, cry out my name …”

“Yes, yes,” Siobhan agrees at once, thighs quivering tremulously. She runs her hands feverishly through his hair, murmuring his name over and over until Cullen presses his palm to her cheek, overwhelming her. The tight heat of her flutters spasmodically around his cock and she throws her head back, moaning her release in a soft, drawn out cry. 

When she opens her eyes, Cullen is still staring at her, his pupils nearly black with desire. A fine sheen of sweat has formed into a layer on his brow and forehead, and he is _quaking_ in the nearness of his climax. Siobhan clenches deliberately, looking at him directly as her hands move to cup his face while he thrusts into her with deep, purposeful strokes.

“Cullen, oh, _Cullen_ ,” she murmurs. “Come for me, my love, my husband, my _husband._ ”

_“Siobhan!”_ he groans, burying his face in her neck as he spends himself, coating the inside of her in warm wetness. She holds his shuddering body close until her there’s nothing left in him; he slumps forward, still nestled inside her, and starts mouthing at her neck again until his softening cock slips out of her. He rolls off her and pulls her into his arms so he can press more kisses to her face and neck. 

Siobhan slots her leg between Cullen’s and wraps her arms around his torso, still eager as ever to hold him to her as closely as possible, even with the steady trickle of his semen sliding smoothly out of her and down her thigh. 

“Sweet Andraste,” Cullen says, pulling back to look at her properly. “Do you have any idea how lovely you look when you come?”

“Oh, Cullen,” she replies, feeling blissful beyond belief.

 

* * *

 

 

They remain in bed until late afternoon, dozing with their arms wrapped around each other. Siobhan wakes Cullen with gentle kisses pressed to his shoulder, then his cheek, and rises to call for the assistance of a servant. She pulls on a robe, and Cullen frowns at her from his spot on the bed. 

“What do we need servants for?” he asks, disgruntled. 

“I fancy a wash and some decent food with my new husband,” she says as she crosses to the wardrobe to select one of her usual sleek dresses, one of deep purple silk with long, draped sleeves. 

“Siobhan … are you sure you want people to know so quickly?”

It’s already something she’s considered. She knows Cullen prefers the two of them having their privacy for the most part, but she’s tired of the burden of keeping up the charade, complete with separate living quarters and hidden affection. Besides, with no military-related threat for the Inquisition to consider, and the its future itself limited after these negotiations, maintaining professional distance from the Commander, at least publicly, is quite unnecessary. 

Most of all, Siobhan is anxious to put an end to the exhausting stream of marriage offers and flirtatious proposals. For both herself _and_ Cullen.

So she tells him:

“I want all of Thedas to know, darling.” She returns to the bed. “You are mine, as I am yours.”

Cullen seems somewhat mollified, though there’s still a crease in his brow. “And what of the Inquisition?”

“We did our duty two years ago. Even if the Inquisition remains after this week, I do not anticipate maintaining a wartime force or exerting the pressure of a nation.” 

She looks down at the dimly glowing Anchor, then back to her husband. She climbs back onto the bed to look Cullen straight in the eye. “I’ve never been able to live my life as I’d like. Right now, I don’t want to be the Inquisitor or the Herald of Andraste or even Trevelyan. I just want to be your wife.”

“Truly?” He clasps her hands in his, astonished by her pronouncement.

“I ran from Ostwick to find my calling, and the Maker gave me that purpose. My obligation’s been fulfilled. You are my calling now.”

His grip is unyielding and his expression is one of such naked devotion and love that Siobhan forgets to breathe for a moment at the sight of it. 

“As you are mine. Always, now.”

“Cullen…”

A loud knock on the door interrupts her. Cullen growls as Siobhan unwillingly slips from his grasp to meet the servant at the door and make her requests. She shields the interior of the room from view, blocking the young woman from the sight of her naked husband in her bed, though she’s sure the girl ends up seeing more than enough anyway. Siobhan doesn’t mind. _Let them talk._  

When she turns back around, Cullen is pulling on his trousers, no doubt to appear presentable to the servants upon their arrival with their food and water basin. Yet he does not worry about his belt or even a shirt; instead, he scoops Siobhan up in his arms so he can ply her with deep kisses. She laughs brightly and allows Cullen to pull her back to bed. 

They hardly have enough time for anything more than a bit of kissing, but they rut against each other all the same, stirring their arousal gently back to life. Far too quickly, they are forced to extricate themselves from their embrace to accept their meal from the servants, who carry three heavily laden trays into the room a short while later, full of the best the kitchens have to offer on such short notice.

Considering the fact that they are at the Winter Palace, the quality of the food is hardly an issue. 

Once the water basin is set down in the center of the room, Siobhan ushers the servants from the room, eager to find some uninterrupted privacy with her husband. Once alone, she strides to the bowl to dampen a washcloth and rinse the dried sweat and sex from her skin. Cullen pours two generous glassfuls of mead while he waits, and when Siobhan is finished with the basin, he beckons her, holding her wine out to her. 

The need to be close, even during a shared meal, has Cullen pulling his wife into his lap instead of having her sit across from or beside him. Siobhan giggles when he brings a cheese tart to her lips and settles comfortably against him, permitting him to feed her from his hand. 

She dips a slice of toasted bread in wine sauce and offers it to Cullen in turn. They sit in companionable silence as they eat, lust forgotten in their moment of simple romantic tenderness. Even the kisses between bites of food are just cursory acts of affection. With dignitaries still arriving and the multinational talks set to commence two days hence, Siobhan is eager to take advantage of her freedom at the Winter Palace with her husband. 

She’s a married woman. _Maker._

She looks over at the dress she has set aside for dinner, the one full of all those dignitaries who would never accept the Inquisitor’s absence simply because she’d decided to elope two days before the start of negotiations. She knows her desire to remain in this room until the next morning is an impossible one; she has duties to attend to within the next few hours. 

Until then, though, she’ll take advantage of all the time she has left with Cullen before they’ll both have to answer to Leliana and Josephine. 

When he offers her a bit of apple raisin bread, she twists around in his lap to look directly at him as she takes a slow, deliberate bite out of it. She feels rather silly doing it, even when Cullen’s eyes narrow and he stiffens beneath her.

“We have a few hours yet,” she says.  

When Cullen kisses her, she wraps her arms around his neck until he groans and begins peeling off her robe until she’s bare for him again. By now she’s settled facing him directly, her legs hanging off the edge of the chair on either side of him as he fills his hands with the swell of her breasts. His hips roll gently as he sweeps her nipples with both thumbs, then kneads, then pinches and rolls the buds between the thumb and forefinger. The alternating pressure is exquisite, so much so that Siobhan must break their kiss to release the moan from her throat.

Cullen recaptures her mouth almost immediately, grunts heavily as his desire mounts. He’s not laced his trousers fully, so it is easy enough for Siobhan to slip her hand inside and stroke him purposefully. The little hitch in his breathing pleases her, as does the increased persistence in the rolling of his hips. 

She indulges him, pulls his cock free and rubs the wet heat of herself against the side of it so he’s writhing with the need of her. “I need you inside me again,” Siobhan murmurs, “Maker, I need —” 

He tilts his hips upward, and Siobhan lowers herself onto him until he’s seated comfortably within her. Deft fingers are back on her breasts, tweaking the stiffened peaks of them as they groan against each other’s mouths. She lets her dangling feet touch the floor, using it as leverage as she starts to move, hands clutching his shoulders for support. Cullen doesn’t move at first, content just to have his wife bounce on his cock and pepper him with short, sharp kisses to his face and neck. 

Every sound —Siobhan’s soft sighs, the whisper of lips on skin, the slapping of her ass against his thighs— echoes against the marble walls of their room and rings in their ears. For a time their lovemaking is unhurried, almost placid, and Siobhan pauses now and again to simply look at her man or share a small kiss with him. 

“Faster,” Cullen breathes eventually.

She whimpers and obeys, increasing her pace, sighing when his hands finally leave her nipples to settle on her ass. His eyes catch hers. “ _Faster_ , Siobhan.”

“Cullen.” She throws her head back, twists in his lap. “Maker, _take me_.”

He pushes up, deeper into her, and she whines loudly. The grip on her ass tightens. Within a moment the pace turns brisk, and she arches her back as he guides her along the length of his cock.

“Let me hear you,” he mutters thickly. “Tell me — you like it.” 

“ _Maker_ , Cullen, I _do_ , of course I do.”

“ _Tell_ me.”

“I like it, I like it, I like it,” she chants, the words punctuated on every downstroke. She’s riding him in earnest now, matching the tempo he’s set, splaying her legs wider to take as much of him inside her as she can. 

“Oh!” She opens wider still, seeking more contact with the deep spot that’s startled the cry from her. A ripple of pleasure bursts through her; whimpering and gasping, she has to bury her face in Cullen’s neck to ride out the waves of her sudden, unexpected orgasm. He grunts in surprise, but he wraps his arms around her as he takes her through it. 

Siobhan kisses the hollow of his throat, all but purring as her body grows slack, sighing when he begins rolling his hips upward to seek his own end. Broad arms hold her firmly to his chest, hindering her movement; Cullen groans, fucks her with deliberate, bold strokes. Her lips move up the column of his neck all the way to the sensitive spot behind the ear.  

Teeth latch onto the lobe, her tongue swipes along the shell of it, and Cullen sighs loudly; he comes undone inside her with several jerky spurts of his hips. Siobhan continues trailing kisses upon every inch of him she can, moving to the underside of his jaw as he collects himself. 

She grins when Cullen seeks out her lips with his own; he slips out of her slowly, running his fingers through her hair. Siobhan lingers on his lap as long as she can justify to herself before she rises to clean herself with water from the basin again. By her reckoning they have barely an hour left until Josephine and Leliana arrive with a team to apply her makeup and fix up her hair. They’re certain to be cross with her and Cullen for eloping and moving into the same quarters while at the Winter Palace, but Siobhan is already prepared to temper their irritation with her ready-made plan to turn any potential political fallout into a gain for the Inquisition. 

She and Cullen continue picking at the rest of the food as they mill about making the room, and themselves, presentable. Siobhan’s mind is already focused on the end of the evening, when she can return with her new husband and make love to him again. It makes the prospect of dealing with a very angry Josephine and Leliana a slightly less daunting one. 

But only slightly. 

 


End file.
